


The Path Not Taken

by tromana



Series: Notes on a Journey [2]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Case Fic, Crime Fighting, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tromana/pseuds/tromana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane and Lisbon, trying to adjust to their realizations while the past continues to haunt them. After all, admissions are one thing. Taking the next step is harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Browneyesparker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Browneyesparker/gifts).



> Sequel to The Scenic Route. Originally written for The Mentalist Reverse Big Bang 2012, inspired by a fanmix by browneyesparker.

_19_ _th_ _November 2012_

"Yes, sir, I'll be there as soon as I can."

Lisbon ended the call and in response, Jane tightened his grip around her waist. He wasn't ready to move, not yet. It was warm and comfortable in bed and he liked knowing she was close by. Even though he was still plagued by insomnia, sharing a bed with somebody (with _her_ ) seemed to help him relax, if nothing else. And if he grew bored in the middle of the night, he could spend hours upon hours just watching Lisbon sleep. There was something infinitely fascinating about it, Jane had already decided.

"Wainwright?" he asked tiredly.

She merely nodded and slowly went to remove his arm from around her body. In response, Jane hugged her more tightly and started peppering butterfly kisses along her collarbone. When she shuddered ever so slightly in response, his lips curled into a gentle grin.

When Lisbon eventually came to her senses and managed to throw him off, he pouted at her. His eyes ate up the sight of her bare back hungrily, watching as she slowly reawakened each of her muscles before standing. Briefly, he tore his sight away from Lisbon's naked form to take a glance at the alarm clock. It read two thirty-seven a.m. Jane sighed; they'd been in bed for barely three hours.

"Isn't it past his bedtime?"

"Oh, hush."

He scurried across her side of the bed, just so that he could catch hold of her hand and distract her from the effort of changing once more. Lisbon scowled in her semi-tiredness and immediately pulled it away from him.

"We need to go," she asserted.

"We?" Jane quipped in response. "I think you'll find that I haven't been summoned into work at this godforsaken hour."

"Well, I'm summoning you now, or do you really want me to call you despite being in the same room?"

"It'd be polite."

"Are you, of all people, really criticizing me when it comes to manners?"

Jane stood, mostly so he could steal a kiss before answering. Despite herself, Lisbon couldn't help but respond and he was pleased at the fact. In the bedroom, it was painfully easy to encourage her to be more than a little bit tactile. Once they were at work, it was a whole different ballgame. For a start, Lisbon always insisted upon displaying a certain level of professionalism. And secondly, they hadn't actually gotten around to announcing their relationship to the others yet. Partially because Lisbon was scouring through the company protocol to see if their relationship was technically 'allowed' according to CBI rules, but mostly out of fear for how Red John would react.

It was no secret that the serial killer kept a close eye on all the members of the Serious Crimes Unit. A change like this was something that could easily encourage him to act, so Jane had been more than happy to keep things on the down low. However, it didn't stop it from being painful working in such close proximity to Lisbon and having to wait to have his wicked way with her until the timing was more appropriate.

"Yes, I am."

She rolled her eyes in response. "Get dressed. I'll see you downstairs."

It didn't take him long to get ready, but Lisbon was still quicker. By the time his feet hit the ground floor, she had already gotten her coat on and scooped up her car keys. Clearly, she was keen to get to whatever crime scene was waiting for them as soon as feasibly possible. Privately, he agreed with her ethos; the sooner they got there, the sooner they could get back and get a little more sleep before starting the investigation properly _after_ sunrise.

"Have you eaten?" he asked as he slipped on his shoes.

"Yes," Lisbon answered back, a little too quickly.

"Teresa."

"Patrick," she echoed, as she often did.

Jane simply shook his head and instead, threw her a Red Delicious apple which he quickly snatched from the fruit bowl. She caught it with ease and willingly bit into it. It was a compromise, of sorts, and it was better than her skipping out on food at all. For a grown woman, she sometimes paid very little heed to her own needs, so he took it upon himself to make sure she looked after herself. After all, it was the least he could do considering just how much she did for him.

Soon enough, she had eaten the whole thing and thrown the apple core in the bin. At the same time, Jane had finished readying himself and eaten too. However, the slight delay hadn't stopped Lisbon from keeping an eagle eye on the clock. He knew she wanted to get a move on.

"Happy now?" she queried.

"Yes, yes I am."

He carefully placed a hand on one cheek and stole one last kiss before parting. Jane knew that from the moment they left her house, that Lisbon would have slipped into work mode and would refuse point blank to look at him as anything other than her somewhat irritating (if dashingly handsome) coworker.

"Ready?"

"Yes, my dear."

"Separate cars?"

"Can't you just say you picked me up from my place because my car broke down?" he asked, with a slight whine in his tone.

Lisbon sighed once again and acquiesced all too easily. None of the others knew precisely where Jane lived, so the little white lie was easy to slide by. Silently, they slipped outdoors and soon enough, they were in her state-issue SUV. Jane didn't bother to push her and ask to drive as well; he suspected that he'd already gotten his fill of compromises from her at this time of the day.

"No funny business, though," she said quietly.

"Do I ever?"

The look on her face said it all: do I really need to justify that with a response? Jane merely grinned. As they traveled, he placed a sly hand on her upper thigh and was marginally surprised that she didn't throw it off in irritation. Soon enough, Lisbon filled the silence with a quick update on what little she knew about the case. A rich man, suspected poisoning, wife was within the mayor's circle of friends. It was all very atypical reasoning for them to get called onto the case. All too often it was fat cats calling favors upon one another, asking for the 'best of the best' to find the killer of their loved ones.

Still, it kept him at least somewhat entertained, Jane decided. And despite his occasional protestations, working for the CBI did give him some sort of fulfillment, as well as giving him the opportunity to work closely with Lisbon.

If he hadn't decided to apply for the job, he would never have found her again. And Jane knew that this was better late than never, even if they did have to keep their relationship shrouded in secrecy.

But for now, that was all beside the point.

They had a job to do.

xxx

_10_ _th_ _July 1986_

"Reese!"

It was James who came bounding into her room at some ridiculous time in the morning. Teresa hated it when her brothers completely forgot to show any respect for her need of privacy. They were all too young to understand that she was a girl, a _teenage_ girl now, and she liked her own private space. She glared at him through squinted eyes. He was hopping excitedly from foot to foot, clearly unable to contain his excitement.

With a sigh, Teresa pulled herself up to a seated position and stretched her back reassuringly. It felt good, feeling everything click into place as she slowly became aware of the fact it was a start of a new day. She smiled; she also knew precisely what that meant. Teresa Lisbon loved the summer and especially July, because it meant one thing and one thing only: the…

"Guess what arrives in town today?" James blurted out excitedly.

She was about to open her mouth to retort, but James was still practically bouncing off the ceilings. Silently, she wondered where this surge of hyperactive energy had come from. But she disregarded it; he had probably been helping himself to his secret stash of candy in the early hours of the morning. Her mom and dad didn't know he had it, but _she_ did. After all, candy was all he ever spent his allowance on, even if their parents were convinced that he acted responsibly and actually saved it.

"The carnival!" he continued and she shook her head in response. "Reese, the carnival is in town!"

"I know," she answered tiredly. "Jay-jay, I'm trying to sleep."

"But-"

"I know, the carnival is here, but mom and dad _never_ take us until the weekend, do they?" she explained with far more diplomacy than she usually had.

James pouted and flopped himself at the end of her bed. Teresa immediately took that as a sign that she wouldn't be getting any more sleep this morning. He'd want his breakfast, and then to go out and walk the dogs with her. After that, she'd probably need to make sure he bathed properly because he'd get himself in a mess. And by that time, Teresa knew she'd have to repeat the process with her other two problems. As the eldest of the Lisbon siblings, she was automatically seen as being the most responsible. Her mother had immediately decided it was her duty to ensure that all three brothers were dressed and ready for school.

Though, of course, it was the summer holidays, and that meant she had to keep them entertained during the day as well. It wasn't until the evening that her parents were ready to take over child-minding duties; Teresa didn't object too much; she knew that they both worked hard in honest, reliable jobs and in all honesty, she enjoyed the modicum of responsibility they had entrusted her with.

And they always made sure that they came to church with them on Sundays. That was non-negotiable, however much James or Tommy protested about it being 'a waste of time.'

"I s'pose."

"You want your breakfast now, Jay?" she asked before throwing off the bed sheets.

Her younger brother screwed his eyes tightly shut, proclaimed that girls were 'icky' and he didn't want to see her in her pajamas. Despite his protestations about seeing her semi-clothed, he also managed to get his regular order of chocolate and banana pancakes out. Teresa smiled and grabbed her bathrobe. After wrapping it around herself, she gently assured James that it was safe to look now. When he saw her looking far more presentable, he returned her a toothy grin and grabbed her hand.

It never took her long to prepare James' breakfast these days. As he liked to eat exactly the same thing every single morning, it was pretty easy provided all of the ingredients were in the kitchen cupboards. James watched her from the kitchen table, holding excitedly onto his cutlery and watching her every move. The dogs, awakened by the noise in the kitchen and realizing that this meant the family was waking up, soon joined them. It was a little bit earlier than they would usually have gotten up, given James' early morning awakening, but the family pets never missed an opportunity to beg for treats.

"Will your boyfriend be at the carnival?" James asked in between mouthfuls.

Teresa choked on her cereal at the sound of his innocent questioning. She hadn't even realized that he had grown so accustomed to Daniel Jane that he actually thought she had some kind of association with him. Quickly, she grabbed her glass of juice and swallowed a large mouthful to ease her sore throat. The carnival was only in town once a year; she barely knew Daniel, even if she was inordinately fond of him. At least, fond enough to look forward to seeing him for that brief window of time.

"He's not my boyfriend," she said defensively and placed her spoon back down. "I'm not old enough for a boyfriend yet."

"Yes you are, Reese," James insisted with a decisive nod. "You're thirteen. You're _old_."

She slapped him gently for his jibe, but he didn't make too much of a fuss. Instead, he used Teresa's distraction to slip a piece of pancake down to the ancient Labrador at his feet. The old dog wolfed down the treat hungrily, clearly pleased that his patience had been rewarded by James.

"You shouldn't feed the dog human food," she chastised lamely.

James shrugged. "So, will he be there?"

"I don't know, Jay," she answered back slowly. "I'd assume so."

He nodded, clearly still considering the repercussions. Teresa assumed that this meant he had finished grilling her about the carnival and the people who ran it.

"Okay," James eventually said. "But doesn't he know that girls have cooties?"

"James!"


	2. Chapter 2

_19_ _th_ _November 2012_

The victim was in his early fifties and looked almost peaceful, in a way. Patrick Jane doubted whether the actual death was actually that calm, but then again, unless somebody passed away in their sleep, it very rarely was. Considering the mode of death, there had probably been an intense level of confusion, maybe some frothing at the mouth, something akin to a seizure before the man had finally collapsed and died.

However, compared to most murder victims, the body wasn't a state and that was probably what made it look calmer than usual.

Jane took the time to scrutinize the man properly. The suit was a tacky knock-off, probably from Taiwan or India, and the aftershave was just as cheap. Even the watch was a fake. This man was trying to appear to be something he wasn't, probably to make himself feel better about the situation he was in. It didn't take long for Jane to conclude that the wife was the one with the money; this man was used to scrimping and saving. He had probably felt like he'd never really felt like he fitted in with his wife and her posh friends.

He made a mental note to ask Rigsby or Van Pelt later. They were both currently consoling the victim's wife, offering her tea and sympathy. Well, probably not tea, but one could always hope.

Straightening up, Jane started to take into account the room where the victim had died. The bar of this country club had been emptied of people soon after the police had arrived on the scene. It didn't take much imagination to be able to picture the mayhem as the victim dropped to his death. No doubt some people had tried to take a closer look at the victim, out of morbid curiosity, but security had done a good job at cordoning the area off.

Probably not a good enough job for the coroner's or Lisbon's liking, however. Both of them were most likely lamenting about the fact that so much evidence had been lost due to the relatively high level of footfall in a place like this. However, to look at the situation marginally more positively, the sheer number of people present at the time of death gave them a large number of witnesses. That was something that would probably keep them busy for days. Jane already knew just how much Rigsby and Van Pelt were dreading the copious number of interviews that they would have to carry out come morning.

Jane soon became acutely aware of Lisbon standing beside him as he scrutinized a photograph of the mayor and the bar owner on the wall. He smiled slightly as he turned to face her.

"The victim's name was Gregory Mitchells. Aged 53," she informed him quietly. "Originally from Louisiana, but moved here ten years ago to marry his wife."

He nodded as he tried to work out how this man could have met his wife. The name was vaguely familiar and it took him about a minute to place it. Mitchells had worked as a singer on cruise ships; he'd treated his wife to a trip on one a couple of years before Charlotte's birth. She'd been quite entranced by Mitchells' voice, whereas Jane could easily see why he hadn't gotten out of the luxury liner entertainment business.

"Probably how he met his wife," Jane vocalized carefully.

"How?" Lisbon asked, acutely aware that he had forgotten to tell her half the story.

Swiftly, Jane summarized his theory for her. How Mrs. Mitchells had probably gone on a cruise with some of her girlfriends. She'd been hypnotized by his voice, and sought out more information about him. Fraternization with the punters was most likely strictly against the rules, but that hadn't stopped Mitchells and they'd swiftly had a whirlwind romance. This, in turn, had promptly caused him to lose his job. She'd supported him ever since, but naturally, being a man, he had tried dabbling in other businesses right up until his death.

"And how can you tell that?" she queried, clearly skeptical. "From the way he gels his hair? Or is it the way he did his tie?"

"Oh, I saw him on a cruise ship once. His voice was very sub-par."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"I guess I'll just have to take your word for it," she said before yawning.

Jane reached out and gently touched her on the arm. When she pulled away, he was disappointed, but not surprised. He could tell that she was acutely aware that they had company and she wasn't ready to reveal how their relationship had developed. He couldn't blame her for that; at work, she lived underneath her veil of professionalism and only very rarely acted in such a way that compromised it. This was what made her such a good cop and he was proud of her for it. However, it didn't stop him from privately celebrating whenever she took the time out to look at the bigger picture. After all, sometimes the law didn't have all of the answers.

"You're still tired," he stated.

"No kidding."

"Are we done here yet?"

"I think so. Pat's going to forward any useful information and we can't interview people til morning…" she answered back, stifling yet another yawn.

"Let's get you home," he murmured and she nodded in assent. "I'm driving."

"No you're not," she retorted.

"If you want to get back home in one piece and actually be able to conduct this investigation, then yes, I am," Jane persisted.

Lisbon folded her arms and pouted in response, but however cute Jane found her whenever she acted in such a way, it wasn't enough to sway her decision. He was used to living and working on a perpetual lack of sleep, whereas she actually needed to get a fairly decent amount to be able to operate properly. Holding out a hand, she eventually realized he wasn't going to drop the matter and handed over her keys.

It wasn't until they were well on their way back to her place that Lisbon piped up again.

"Patrick?"

"Yes, Teresa?"

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"This has to remind you of…"

She trailed off, clearly unwilling to vocalize the rest of her thoughts. However, she'd said enough. Of course it reminded him of Angela; after all, that was how he'd first come across the victim. In spite of that, the memories hadn't been quite as painful as they had been in the past. It was almost wistful to think about it, a time long gone by. Jane partially put it down to finally beginning to put old demons to rest and actually move on. That was something he couldn't have done without her in his life.

Then again, he wasn't the only one with past loves on his mind. Just last month they'd investigated a case involving an old employee of one Greg Marshall. Since they'd close the case, he hadn't heard her say one word about her ex-fiancé, never mind the fact that he was in the vicinity. And since then, it had been bugging him.

Jane took a furtive glance at her; she was nearly asleep. Instead he made a mental note to ask her about it later. It wasn't that he needed to know; he just wanted to. Besides, finding out more about Lisbon's old flame would provide him with a welcome relief of thinking about his own past. Just because it felt okay to do so right now, it didn't mean he'd feel that way after a couple of days of working the case.

xxx

_14_ _th_ _July 1986_

Her parents had changed the date for their scheduled trip to the carnival to the Monday, much to Teresa's irritation. James' enthusiasm for the carnival had rubbed off on both Tommy and Joseph and they had persistently asked her when they would finally be going. Just when they had come to the conclusion that the yearly trip might not actually happen, their parents had promised that they would be going.

And at that point, Tommy had decided he didn't want to go anymore, he wanted to stay home instead and play with his toys. The only thing that had managed to make him change his mind was the promise that his best friend, Zachary, could come with them. Teresa knew that in reality, her parents were simply babysitting Tommy's friend, but they had phrased it as if it were a treat especially for him. Her dad, especially, was cunning like that, especially when it came to the boys.

Teresa sat in silence in the back of the car, sick to death of hearing four boys squabbling over nothing in particular. She knew that it was just hyperactive energy and that they would calm down a little once they actually got to the carnival. However, by the time they were heading back home, they would be pumped up on sugar and carbohydrates once more. She sighed. It was no wonder that their parents had been reluctant to take them. Even she felt like this was too much effort for too little reward. Teresa just hoped that Daniel would still be there. Then, it would make it all worthwhile for her. In truth, he was the only reason she was coming at all. Otherwise, she would have leapt at the opportunity to have a quiet day at home and focus on her homework. There was a reason that people said she had a wise head on young shoulders.

Almost the moment the car was parked, the boys attempted to scatter. Teresa somehow managed to grab hold of Tommy's hand while her parents managed the other three. She couldn't help but think her parents were insane to agree to bring Zachary with them. As far as she was concerned, the boy was noisy and twice as energetic as any one of her brothers. Thankfully, he was also notoriously shy around her father and that had settled him down considerably. Even so, she still held her breath as to whether or not he would remain as such for the rest of the trip. Zachary was a good kid; he just had too much energy and she doubted whether or not it had been a good idea to combine his stay with their yearly carnival trip.

Still, at least it was actually happening and her brothers wouldn't be disappointed anymore.

As usual, the carnival was an explosion of color. People shrieked with excitement on various rides; the queue to the new tilt-a-whirl being especially long. When she caught sight of a familiar trailer, next to the Ferris wheel, Teresa breathed a sigh of relief. The Jane family was still associated with the carnival. That was the main thing.

She timed it to perfection. While the boys were stuffing their faces with corn dogs and cotton candy, she sidled up to her father. Teresa wasn't interested in unhealthy snacks, but there was something that had always intrigued her.

"Dad, can we see Patrick, the boy psychic please?" she asked as politely as she could.

Her father smiled and rested a hand gently on her shoulders. Teresa stared back pleadingly; there wasn't much she wanted. It was her brothers who made all of the outrageous demands.

"There's no such thing as psychics, Reese."

"Then why does he claim to be one?"

It was a valid question, but her father brushed it aside. The boy was clearly a liar and a cheat and God didn't like either of those. Therefore, he wasn't willing to line the pockets of that man when there were good honest souls selling their wares at this carnival alongside him. Teresa had to wonder just how 'good' and 'honest' the other carnie folk were, but she knew that Daniel, at least, was a good kid, even if he pointedly refused to talk about his twin brother. And her dad trusted him, despite the fact he was a Jane.

She didn't actually see Daniel himself until they were heading towards Pete's House of Mirrors. James was eagerly taking the lead, giving her mom no choice but to follow. When he tapped her on the shoulder, Teresa almost jumped a mile. Then, she wrapped him up in a fierce hug. Daniel had grown since she'd last seen him, but immediately, her slightly older eyes decided that it suited him. He looked more ruggedly handsome than ever before. Her dad looked reluctant until the boy appeared beside her, proffering a hand which he eventually shook. Soon after, he brushed Daniel away, with the intent to talk privately to her. Teresa was equally disappointed and relieved. On one hand, she would have liked to see them make the effort to get to know one another. However, it also saved him from any potentially embarrassing questions.

"Two hours, no later," he informed her quickly, after Daniel had gone to linger by the cotton candy machine nearby. "Meet us by the Ferris wheel."

She grinned. Two hours was better than nothing at all.


	3. Chapter 3

"Coffee?" Jane enquired.

"I thought you'd never ask," Lisbon replied and her lips curved ever so slightly upwards.

"Liar," he retorted as his grin brightened. "And I think you may have exaggerated just a little."

Lisbon rolled her eyes, as she often did at him. In the meantime, Jane busied himself with preparing her morning dose of caffeine as his tea steeped for a while. Ordinarily, he would have brought her a coffee, as was his morning routine, but the disturbance to their usual sleeping pattern had sent that a little off-kilter. Having slept through their alarm, he simply hadn't had the time to go to Marie's. Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho were already questioning witnesses and he knew that Lisbon was itching to go and question the widow already.

But first, she had a meeting with Wainwright to endure. Being practically straight from college, the man was full of useless initiatives about team building, visions for the future, appearance in the media or whatever. Basically, it was a lot of hot air about nothing and didn't really make the slightest bit of difference whenever it came to the important details of crime fighting. Even though Jane didn't actually have to sit through those arduous talks and staff meetings, he did have to listen to Lisbon complain about them afterwards.

Then again, given how much trouble he caused her, it was probably only fair that he listened to her irritations about her latest boss in silence. Besides, it wasn't as if he and Wainwright saw eye to eye, either. Though Wainwright appeared to appreciate Jane's usefulness to the CBI, he had once labeled him a psychopath, which said a lot. However, he clearly didn't believe he was enough of a risk to throw him out of the CBI. Yet.

He still didn't know that he had surreptitiously started dating the lead agent of his best team either. That would be an interesting conversation to have. No doubt Wainwright would start throwing insults and accusing him of corrupting Lisbon, as if she hadn't made the decision without weighing up the pros and cons. She had been rather angry about the fact he had lied about his identity all those years ago, but the anger had quickly washed away. There was little point in her remaining furious at him over an ill-thought through decision he'd made as a kid. And besides, had her father known he was really Patrick Jane, the psychic boy, then he probably wouldn't have let them spend that precious short time together when they'd been younger.

Jane spent his free hour resting on the couch. With only a vague bit of interest, he read through the scant case notes and listened into Rigsby questioning some of the witnesses. None of them were providing them with much insight; if anything, they were simply confirming things they already knew. That he had been poisoned, that the source had been the drinks he had been using. Apparently, nobody had actually seen the drink being spiked and instead, had just witnessed Mitchells collapse and have a seizure prior to his death.

It was sad, especially given the fact that Jane had crossed paths with him before. However, the memories of his wife that his death had brought up had mainly been wistful, happy even. It was good to think about Angela in a different light, rather than purely fixating on her butchered body which Red John had left behind.

He jumped with a start when Lisbon gently nudged him with her knee. Jane hadn't expected to drift off, especially not with all the noise that was going on around him. Even so, he was grateful for the nap. The more he and Lisbon settled into their relationship, the easier he was finding it to actually sleep. However, he still had a long way to go. Years of neglecting his own needs had taken their toll on his body. It was a good job that Lisbon was so understanding and patient, in that respect. Many other women would have ran in the opposite direction.

"Ready to go?" he questioned.

"Yes."

"How was your meeting?" he asked, more out of politeness than anything.

She waved a dismissive hand. "It's over. Come on, we have a wife to speak to."

Jane sighed; at least the wife had been present at the time of death, so they didn't have to break the awful news to her. However, that equally placed her on their suspect list. That was, if she had some sort of a motive, of course. The tears and the shock she had displayed in the early morning could easily have been a façade, a mask, in order to hide her real motives.

As she had managed to get a couple of hours sleep before turning up to work, Lisbon refused point blank to let him drive. Jane didn't argue; it meant he could have time just to watch her. That was a habit he had quickly slipped into after they had realized just how long they'd known one another and just what they meant to each other. He'd always found her a fascinating being, but even more so since he had slipped himself into her life. And she had fit him just like a glove, but that was something that didn't surprise him.

But it didn't change the fact that he was still musing about Greg Marshall. It didn't help that he shared the same first name – and initials – with their current victim, either.

"When did you first meet Greg?" he asked once they started driving.

"Greg? You mean…" she started, by trailed off.

"Yes, I mean your ex, Greg."

"You don't really want to know," she answered back.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

"Jane…"

He immediately noted the use of his surname and the slight whine in her tone. Normally, when they were alone, she slipped into using his forename. And it was obvious that she still didn't want to talk about Greg. But Jane couldn't help it; he wanted to know how the man fit into her past, whether or not she knew him before she temporarily slipped out of his life.

She sighed before continuing. "It's really not that interesting."

"Now you know that just makes me more intrigued."

"Can't we just focus on the case for now?"

"Fine," he answered back in a slight sulk.

Besides, they had nearly reached the victim's family home. And Lisbon was very much in work-mode. He knew he wasn't going to get much more out of her now.

xxx

15th July 1986

Teresa didn't need an early morning wakeup call from one of her brothers. And though she had set her alarm for the painfully early time of five a.m., she hadn't required that either. Instead, she had spent most of the night tossing and turning; she had been far too excited to do anything beyond dozing. Nervous too, especially considering the fact she hadn't told her parents, and especially not her father. In reality, she knew that she should have asked for permission, but the problem was she knew she would never have gotten it, even if she had dared to do so. Her father had found her interest in the carnie boy sweet and endearing, provided he didn't encourage her too much. A couple of hours each year was fine, but if she expressed much more of an interest in Daniel Jane, she knew he would come down on her like a ton of bricks.

After all, he was carnie folk, and by and large, they couldn't be trusted, even if they did provide a fun day out for all the family.

She knew that if he found out that she and Daniel had shared a kiss (her first kiss) yesterday, he would be furious. Not because she was growing older and that kind of thing was inevitable, but because he just wouldn't approve with her hooking up with somebody like Daniel. Teresa had been brought up to be a good little Christian girl, and if her father had any say, then she would marry another Catholic, work hard in a respectable career and raise a family. She didn't want to let her father down; she admired him a lot. However, she also wanted to live her own life and make her own decisions. Besides, just because she was seeing Daniel again, it didn't mean that she was going to do anything crazy like marry the boy. She was far too young for that.

But it didn't stop her from being intrigued, from liking him and wanting to get to know him some more. He was only in Chicago for such a brief window of time each year as well; Teresa knew that she had to grab the opportunity with both hands. There was something so intriguing about him and his family and she just wanted to know more, even if it did mean bending a rule or two to do so. And besides, he'd offered to let her help feed the animals and they had always been her favorite part of the carnival. She really wanted to see the tigers again, and the elephants too. Especially as one of the elephants had had a calf and the enclosure had been so busy that she hadn't been able to see it yesterday.

Briefly, she toyed with the idea of makeup – on rare occasions, she had been playing around with her mother's cast-offs – but decided against it. She really wasn't that good at applying it and besides, Daniel seemed to like her well enough without it. Briefly, she tugged through her hair with her hairbrush, before grabbing her purse and heading out to collect her bicycle. She was thankful that they lived on the outskirts of the city and that it wasn't too far away from where the carnival had set itself up.

Even so, she still felt the ride afterwards. Daniel was waiting at the gates however, and that immediately made her forget the ache in her legs. She ran up to him and threw her arms straight around his waist. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips and she smiled into it. Her heart skipped a beat and she briefly wondered if this was what it was like to fall in love. Then again, that was such a daunting concept. Teresa still considered herself too young for that sort of thing, but then again, she knew that her mom and dad had met each other when they were both around the age of nine. It wasn't impossible.

Almost as if he could read her thoughts (like his brother, she briefly wondered), he suggested that they headed straight to the elephants. A blonde girl glared as they walked past, and Teresa couldn't help but wonder if there was something going on between her and Daniel. She ignored the stab of jealousy that hit her, however. After all, there had to be a reason why Daniel had invited her to the carnival prior to opening. Teresa just couldn't believe that he would do such a thing if he had an interest in any other woman; he just didn't seem to be the type.

"The baby's name is Daisy," the boy explained as she handed Nellie an apple. "Nellie's her mom."

"How old is she?"

"Five months."

Teresa kept her focus on the elephants, to the extent that she was the last person to notice that her father had stormed in. She turned around reluctantly, partially embarrassed by the fact that he was causing such a scene, but mostly because she was ashamed at being caught broken the rules. It wasn't the first time she hadn't followed her parents' instructions, or at least, explicitly not told them something, but it was the first time she had been caught doing so. Her shame turned to sheer horror when her father spat out that her mom had been involved in a major car accident.

That was something that she had never envisaged happening to her mom. She was a healer; she wasn't the one who ended up broken in a hospital bed.

And it had been her fault. If she hadn't disappeared at the crack of dawn, then her mom wouldn't have been hit by another car. She wouldn't have been on the roads at all.

She tried to apologize a thousand times or more on the brief journey over to the hospital. It was all in vain, Teresa knew it, but it was the only way she could cope with the guilt that was beginning to overwhelm her.

It got all the worse when they arrived, only to be cornered by a nurse with a gentle face, informing them that her mother had passed on.


	4. Chapter 4

19th November 2012

The journey to the Mitchells family residence was peaceful, quiet. Jane was relieved to be somewhere which offered some privacy, a place away from prying eyes. The transition from friends (and coworkers) to lovers was a difficult one and he knew that Lisbon felt her position was compromised. If Wainwright discovered that they had embarked upon an 'illicit' affair, then she suspected that she would be first out of the door. Since Hightower's words of caution a couple of years ago, Lisbon had always considered herself being the expendable one out of the pair. After all, it was she who had been punished for his misdemeanors in the past.

However, she had always thought the sacrifice was worth it. That was before she had even discovered that he had played a key part in her childhood. Now, Jane was simply grateful for the fact he had a second chance. More than that really; he knew that now, he owed her more than he could ever have imagined. When he had originally joined the CBI and been assigned to her unit, he was relieved to have the chance to get to know her again. He had never imagined that somehow, she would save him all over again, just like she had as a child. Even now, he still clung hold of her like she was a life raft, keeping him afloat.

When they arrived at the house, he was more than a little disappointed to have to let go of her hand. Sometimes, the need to touch her at work grew almost unbearable. Even so, he knew that Lisbon was back in business mode and there was nothing he could do to change that. It was ingrained into her very being; he wouldn't want to take that away from her.

A tear stained Andrea Mitchells answered the door promptly. Behind her was a table, neatly arranged with various foods and the like. She hadn't taken long in spreading out the news her husband had died, but then again, she lived in a society notorious for spreading gossip. The rich never liked to be left out and death just provided them with something interesting to talk about. Especially so given the fact that Gregory Mitchells hadn't just passed away, but had been murdered in front of hundreds of people. This would keep people talking for months.

Andrea quickly guided them away from the mourners – or at least the people pretending to offer Andrea their sympathies – and instead, took them through to the kitchen where they could talk in private. Jane was marginally disappointed to have been led away from the food, but busied himself making all three of them tea. As Lisbon asked her the boring questions, he listened intently for what she was saying in between the lines. Making the tea – which he knew Lisbon wouldn't touch as she was very picky about which blends she drank – just provided him with the ideal cover as he paid attention to what she said and what she actually meant.

A tall man with salt and pepper hair briefly interrupted them, claiming to be after a refill for a pitcher of water. Jane leant against the counter and sipped the tea as he watched with interest. The man briefly grazed a hand across Andrea's shoulder – unnecessarily so – as he closed the gap between himself and the kitchen sink. Despite being given a different task to do, his eyes didn't leave the widow.

"Are you alright, Andrea?" he queried and briefly touched her once again.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"These cops aren't bothering you, are they?" he asked and Jane couldn't miss the venom in his words. Clearly this was a man who did not entirely see eye to eye with the police force.

"They're just doing their jobs," she assured him.

He nodded and quickly vacated the room. Jane paused for thought for a second; the signs were all there. The man had practically been screaming possession when it came to Andrea. Lisbon was about to continue her line of questioning when Jane quickly interrupted.

"You had an affair, didn't you?"

"Excuse me?" Andrea Mitchells spat out, aghast.

"You were seeing another man, behind Gregory's back."

"I did nothing of the sort!"

"Liar."

"Control your man," Andrea demanded.

Lisbon smirked before covering her expression with something more suited. It was there just long enough for Jane to catch it, however, and he grinned in response. This only served to make the wife just that little more

"Mr. Jane is merely a consultant and his opinion doesn't reflect that of the CBI's," Lisbon stated demurely. "All I can say is I'm very sorry for any offense he may have inadvertently caused."

"Inadvertently, my ass," she answered back angrily. "You know it was intentional."

Instead of managing to effectively deny the claims, instead she had made it all the worse for herself. Her anger was practically an admission and the look in Lisbon's eyes suggested that she was thinking the exact same thing. Jane watched as she briefly made a note in her notepad. They would have to spend some time questioning Andrea's lover in private. That was another potential suspect to add to the list.

Jane disappeared into the lounge, leaving Lisbon to tie up the loose ends and continue to smooth offer ruffled feathers. He had very little interest in that kind of thing; if somebody was a liar and cheat, and had been called out on it, of course they were going to act defensively. Just because she had money behind her, it didn't make Andrea's behavior any more excusable. Instead, he took the time to map out the other people present. None of them had been there at the incident the night beforehand, but all of them had been quick to react to Gregory Mitchells' death. It almost disgusted him, the way they pawed over the food that had been supplied and chatted animatedly with one another. They almost seemed to be celebrating the death instead of mourning the loss. A woman with red curls brushed past him to reach the pitcher of orange juice. When she apologized, Jane simply shrugged his shoulders. As far as he was concerned, she was as bad as the rest of them.

He jumped when he felt a familiar hand graze against his shoulder. Tentatively, Jane turned around to see Lisbon gently sliding her notebook back into her jacket pocket. Sometimes, he felt guilty for causing her hassle at work, especially now, but it was his job to get the truth out of people. Yes, he could have used a little more tact, but what was the point in dancing around the issue?

"What do you think?"

"She has motive," Jane answered back.

"You like her for it?" she asked.

"I didn't say that," he replied, keen to clarify his point. "But she was present at the time the murder occurred."

"And so were a lot of other people, Jane."

"We should talk to him." Jane pointed out the man with the salt and pepper hair that had disturbed them earlier. "Being Andrea Mitchells' lover, he has motive as well."

Lisbon nodded and together, they closed the distance between themselves and the man. When he spotted them cornering them, he made a dash for it. Jane held back and let Lisbon chase him down; this was something she excelled at. It didn't take her long to have him cuffed and in the back of the SUV, traveling back to the CBI headquarters. Jane knew that this was either a break in the case, or a red herring. However, he was also more than aware that they would have to question him before he could be sure either way. Whatever, the man was certainly guilty of something – and more than just adultery. Otherwise, he would have been more than happy to speak to them instead of running.

xxx

8th September 1986

The first couple of weeks back at school had been some of the hardest since her mother's death. Summer had promptly disappeared in a blaze; the funeral, the constant rotation of relatives and family friends offering their sympathies. Dealing with her brothers' nightmares and screaming out for their mother. Just when she had believed that she and her father had pulled together some sort of normalcy for them, everything had changed again. The start of the school year was always frantic, but without the calmness supplied by her mom, Teresa felt like she was treading in deep water, only just managing to stay afloat.

Still, now this was becoming the new 'normal', she could only hope that today would be better. That Tommy hadn't caused trouble at school, that Joseph had bothered to do his homework, and that James hadn't decided to skip out on a class. It was a never ending fight with all three of them. None of them knew that their mom had been on the road because she had gone missing, and she suspected if they had that knowledge it would have been all the worse. But even without it, they were all bad enough. This reckless behavior just could not last but neither she or her father seemed to have a clue what to do to make them snap out of it.

A boy with sandy hair and blue eyes approached her just as she hauled her bag over her shoulder. Teresa paused for a second to scrutinize him. For a brief while, she had believed it was Daniel Jane approaching her, but deep down, she had known that was impossible. He lived and breathed the carnival. And even if he wanted to get away from it, she knew that his father, the imposing Alex Jane, would never let him get that far. Or he wouldn't be allowed to leave until he was at least old enough to stand on his own two feet. Instead, the boy was unfamiliar, presumably new. Obviously, he hadn't gotten the memo to leave her the hell alone; she's mourning her mom's death. That she didn't want to be bothered by unfamiliar faces. And if she heard 'I'm very sorry for your loss' one more time, then she was likely to scream.

"Want some help?" he asked, nodding towards her heavy load.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"You sure don't look it."

She clicked her tongue irritably; she wasn't about to go spilling her guts to this boy. Teresa didn't even know his name, never mind anything else. Her private life was her own and she already hated the fact that half the school knew about what had happened to her family during the summer vacation. At least the full story hadn't been broadcast around; it was bad enough that everybody was aware that her mom had died in a car crash. Worse, it was still getting the occasional broadcast in the news, owing to the fact that the lawsuit was yet to be completed.

"Really, I am."

"I get the impression you say that a lot."

"What? From such a brief conversation?" she snapped irritably. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"Greg, Greg Tayback," he said with a grin and held out a hand.

"Good for you."

Shaking her head, Teresa promptly turned on her heels and attempted to stalk away. She was in a rush; she already knew that James at least would be waiting for her. The other two, she knew would probably pose more of a challenge to track down. There was no way she could blame them for becoming so erratic in recent months, but she knew it wasn't just putting the pressure on herself, but their father too. Sometimes, there was a look in his eyes which just suggested he was nearing breaking point. That was something she just couldn't bear to see. They had already lost one parent literally; losing another –even just in spirit - would just be unthinkable.

When she realized that there were approaching footsteps, she sighed and turned around once more. It wasn't a surprise in the slightest when she realized Greg Tayback hadn't taken her frostiness as a hint to leave her alone. Instead, he seemed persistent in chasing her down. All she could do was wonder why.

"Teresa…"

"How do you know my name?" she asked. For the first time, her curiosity was piqued.

"You mean you don't recognize me?"

She dumped her bag back on the floor and stared hard at him. All she could see was the passing resemblance to one Daniel Jane. Maybe, she had walked past him once or twice when they were out. It was entirely possible that she had spotted him in the crowd at the carnival in July, maybe. However, any specific reasoning behind why she should know Greg Tayback was beyond her. Instinctively, she tucked her lower lip underneath her lips as she attempted to concentrate. It wasn't her fault that her memory banks weren't working at full capacity. It was understandable; she had been put under a lot of pressure of late.

Still, it was troubling her. Something was telling her there was an important reason why she should know him. After all, why else would he be making the effort to actually talk to her when she was specifically being so unwelcoming? Anybody else (except, maybe, Daniel himself) would have just given up and let her get on with it. They would have simply figured that she wasn't worth the effort and let her get on with struggling unassisted. But not Greg and that was making her consider why.

He smiled sadly and reached out to touch her shoulder lightly. She flinched out of instinct and he reluctantly pulled his hand away once again. This wasn't helping. All she was doing was beating herself up about not knowing Greg when she really felt like she should have done so. And on top of that, he was being so nice and so patient with her. Excepting her teachers, nobody had bothered approaching her because she hadn't let them. Greg was the only person determined to be the exception to the rule and yet, barring the five minutes they had been talking, she couldn't have even classified him amongst her acquaintances.

"My dad died in that car crash too."


	5. Chapter 5

_19_ _th_ _November 2012_

"And what evidence do you have that Andrea and I were having an affair?"

James Dawson practically snarled the question in Lisbon's direction. It was clear that he hadn't appreciated being cuffed and dragged back to the headquarters like a common criminal, but Jane didn't particularly care either way. All he wanted to know was whether or not he had any involvement in Gregory Mitchells' murder and he knew the same applied to Lisbon. The affair, which he was intent upon denying, provided the perfect motive. By continually denying it, the man was simply making himself look worse. It was little wonder that Lisbon wore a skeptical expression at this moment in time.

"The fact that you ran before we had the chance to ask our first questions suggests a lot," Lisbon explained with the patience of a saint.

"Maybe I didn't want to be questioned by a charlatan like him?" Dawson argued back.

Jane immediately opened his mouth to retort, but Lisbon cut him off. "What makes you think he's a charlatan?"

"I remember him, from back in the day," Dawson replied, a smug expression written on his features. "How he uses people's secrets against them, makes them pay him an extortionate amount of money for little more than lucky guesswork."

"I resent that," Jane answered hotly.

"Of course you do. Your kind can't stand to hear the truth."

"And what kind is that?"

"Jane…" Lisbon said warningly.

"Liars and thieves. You're still doing precisely the same now, except under a mask of goodwill. Red John may have taken you down a peg or two, but that doesn't mean-"

"That's enough!"

Lisbon's voice cut through them like a knife. Jane was relieved; this case had nothing to do with Red John. The reason it was rattling him so much was because it involved people from his past. These were the kind of figures he didn't particularly want Lisbon to meet, especially now. They highlighted the unsavory characteristics which he possessed that he desperately tried to bury or ignore. This was probably the precise reason why she felt so uncomfortable when Greg Tayback was on the scene. And now, he almost felt sorry for her. It was hard picking up the pieces after an unwilling reminder.

"What do you know about Red John?" Jane asked darkly.

"Oh, enough," the man stated but when Jane glared at him, he expanded upon his statement. "Just what has been said in the media; I like to pay attention to current affairs."

At that point, Jane stood and left. He'd heard enough. Of course it hadn't given him a chance to glean much useful information on the case, but he knew that he needed to escape before he did something that he would regret. If he stayed in the same room as that man, Jane knew that he would land up doing something where Lisbon ended up paying for the consequences of his actions. Since they had put their history behind them and moved on in a positive direction, he had been uncharacteristically unsure of himself. If seemed like he was scared that any action would make her realize just how foolish she'd been and instead, she'd run for the hills. Just because of their history, it didn't mean she had to accept him warts and all.

His first stop was the kitchenette. As usual, he prepared two hot drinks – a coffee for Lisbon and tea for himself. Jane relished in the activity of tea making; it was one of the few things where he could totally unwind and relax. It helped that tea was so good for you too, and that it tasted pretty damn good as well. Briefly, he glanced at the clock; it was nearing four p.m. It was later than he'd expected. He took the first tentative sip of the steaming hot liquid when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Jane turned and offered Lisbon a weak smile.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Jane replied. "Any luck."

Lisbon shook her head. "Cast-iron alibi; Van Pelt's already confirmed it. I had to set him loose."

"But?"

"But he did mention that a woman had been harassing Andrea."

"Anything interesting about said woman?" Jane queried.

"Apparently, she's Gregory Mitchells' ex-wife."

"Interesting," Jane mused and passed over the coffee. "Here."

"Thanks," she answered back, but the frown soon settled back into place. "What's wrong?"

With a wave of the hand, he brushed away her concerns. Jane fell quickly into step beside her as they headed towards her office. Lisbon remained silent, but it was blatantly obvious that there was something she desperately wanted to say. However, she remained silent until she was seated comfortably behind her desk. He watched as she placed the coffee on her desk and then folded her hands neatly in front of her before speaking.

"He doesn't have anything to do with Red John."

Sometimes, Lisbon was predictable to the extreme.

"How do you know?" he countered, even though he knew he was really just playing devil's advocate.

"Dawson was just trying to unnerve you, and by the looks of it, he succeeded. Just relax, okay?"

"Yes, boss."

Lisbon scowled, but he dutifully settled down on her couch. There wasn't anything else he could do at that moment in time and paper trails were more the expertise of her and the team. He didn't sleep; contrary to popular belief, he never did in the office. Instead he just closed his eyes and tried to think of other stuff while listening to the regular tap, tap, tapping from Lisbon's keyboard.

A few hours later, and they'd returned to Lisbon's home. While she insisted upon busying herself in the kitchen, he dug out his old diary, the one he'd kept during his search for Lisbon as a teenager, and flicked through it, full of thought. Sometimes, during his late nights, while she was sleeping, he couldn't resist the temptation. Jane looked through her belongings, and worked out how each and every item related to her in some way. Not once had he found anything to do with her past love. Then again, she didn't seem scarred by it, not in the same way as he was. He knew there was nothing to be concerned about; Greg Tayback wasn't the jealous type and he was entirely committed to his wife. But still, Jane couldn't rid himself of the lingering thoughts.

"Didn't you ever keep a journal, or diary?" he asked over dinner.

"No, why?"

"Just wondering."

"No you're not," Lisbon retorted irritably. "You're wondering about Greg again, aren't you?"

"You've not mentioned him since…"

"That's because there's nothing to talk about," she snapped back hastily. "I think you should spend tonight at your house, Jane."

"What? Why?"

"Because you need to get this… thing out of your system. Between this case and your incessant questioning about Greg, I've had enough."

xxx

_17_ _th_ _May 1986_

It was nearing the end of another year of school.

It was also nearing the first anniversary of her mother's death.

Since Teresa had discovered the bond that she and Greg had forged in that tragedy, she had clung closely to him. He understood what it was like to lose a parent so young, how she had to become the replacement mom for three rambunctious boys. Greg even had that unerring sense of guilt over said parent's dead; the feelings of 'it's my fault', 'I could have stopped this', and the 'if onlys'. She sincerely doubted that the finger of blame could have been pointed at him in the precise same way that it was for her, but it was still nice. In a way, anyway. It felt like she had somebody on her side, if nothing else.

Somehow, it also helped that his pale blue eyes always held onto a certain air of familiarity to them too. Some wise person had once said that the eyes were the window to the soul. Teresa thoroughly agreed with them, whoever they were.

She was agitated and as per usual, Greg was the only person who understood why. The case into her mother and his father's respective deaths had dragged its way through court. Each and every blow had been accounted for in the papers. For some reason, the early morning crash involving a surviving drunk driver had really inspired the people of Chicago. Teresa hated it; she loathed the fact that everyone knew (almost) every gory detail about the incident. The looks of pity and the false apologies that would have died out months ago kept being brought back by timely reminders. And on top of that, she was sick to death with compliments about just how 'brave' she apparently was and just how 'well' she was coping with the tragedy.

"It's today," Greg breathed and Teresa nodded.

Today, they would have answers. Today, they would get closure. Today, that drunk driver would get his comeuppance. Though she tried to be a good little Christian girl, just as her mom had always wanted, she couldn't help but hate the man who had ended her mother's life. She sorely wished that he would get punished for it and deservedly so. If the man had been wise enough not to drink, then they wouldn't have gone through all of this heartache. Her dad wouldn't have been trying to pull everything together and failing. Her whole world would never have been turned upside down.

Of course, this didn't get rid of the simple fact that had she not disappeared to the carnival in the early morning of that fateful day, her mom would never have been out on the roads. But then, it helped, in a strange sort of way, knowing that she wasn't entirely to blame.

She had begged and pleaded her father to let her go to court with him, to let her hear the verdict for herself. Told him that it was a _Friday_ , they never did anything important on a Friday. Insisted that she would work twice as hard to catch up anyway. Promised that she would be on her best behavior. He'd refused, of course. Whatever she said, and whatever she did, he still said no. Ten months after his wife's death, he was still just about managing to hold himself together. Her father understood just how important her education was and knew that she couldn't afford to miss a day.

And then, there was always the chance for the unthinkable to happen. That her mom's killer would be cleared of the charges. Deep down, she knew it was probably for the best that she didn't hear it, if that were the case. She hoped and prayed that it wasn't though. The family needed the closure, and Greg's did too. Besides, it should have been an open and shut case. He was drunk and he'd been driving and that was the end of the story.

She almost felt guilty by the end of the school day, when she realized her agitation had rubbed off on Greg.

The journey home was painfully silent. Even Tommy seemed to realize the magnitude of the day and was behaving accordingly. Teresa waved Greg off when they reached his house; she lived just a couple of streets away from him. He promised to call her as soon as possible to discuss the outcome, which she answered with just a cursive nod. Even so, she paused for a second as she watched him disappear into his family home.

As she walked the last part of the journey home with her brothers in tow, Teresa felt as though her feet were getting heavier and heavier. The knot in the pit of her stomach was tightening with each and every footstep. Her heartbeat grew more erratic, faster as they grew closer to their house. James whispered something to Joseph, but Teresa missed it. In truth, she didn't really care about what the boys were gabbling about. All she wanted was an answer.

And that answer was one that only her father could supply her with.

Teresa frowned when she noticed that the front door hadn't been shut properly. Instead, it had been pushed slightly ajar. She frowned; had they been burglarized while everyone had been out for the day? Had the family's stretch of bad luck not finished yet? Or had her father simply not been paying attention when he got home? His car, after all, was parked on the driveway.

She swallowed as she pushed the door open. Instinctively, she told her brothers to go away, to play in the back yard for a while. Teresa promised that she would call them as soon as dinner was ready, but as it was a nice, sunny day, they had to take advantage of the good weather. They didn't argue with her instructions and she was relieved about that. The last thing she wanted was to argue with them outside of the family home. The neighbors were already more than aware of what the family had been going through. She didn't want to give them ammunition; to give them reason to call the boys unruly and to argue that the family was falling apart since her mom's death. If that happened, then it would give them reason to suggest that their father couldn't cope, that they needed to be split up and maybe put into care. Then, Teresa knew, that her father would definitely break.

The stench of alcohol and vomit hit her immediately. Teresa screwed up her face in disgust, but still, she knew that she had to face it. In a way, she was surprised that her dad was already home. She had expected the delivery of the verdict to last longer, to stretch into the early hours of the evening.

And she certainly hadn't expected to walk in and see her father blind drunk at the kitchen table.

"Dad," she said warily.

"Teresa, honey, come to daddy."

"You're drunk."

"Who's a clever girl, then?" he answered back with a smirk. "Come to daddy, dearest."

"No. What was the verdict?" she asked, almost demanding an answer.

"Acc-" he hiccupped halfway through the word. "Accidental death. Now come _here_."


	6. Chapter 6

_20_ _th_ _November 2012_

"Good morning, my dear."

"Don't you dare start," Lisbon muttered.

"You're not still angry with me, are you?" he enquired.

He placed the coffee neatly next to the fruit salad he'd spent the early hours of this morning preparing for her. Jane knew that if he wasn't around, she was more inclined to skip out breakfast to get to work as early as possible. As they were currently running on a case, one which had landed on their laps because of people with money, that rule applied even more firmly than usual. When grabbed the fork and opened the pot of fruit, he smiled briefly.

"No," she answered back quietly. "But we do have a job to do."

Jane nodded. That timely reminder made him acknowledge precisely where they were. As soon as she was in the workplace, she immediately threw up those irritating barriers between them. Since they had started a relationship of sorts, she had actually gotten worse with that. Sometimes, he wondered if the rest of the team had noticed a change in her demeanor but he was fairly certain they hadn't. They were all distracted by other issues, anyway.

She already had a stack of paperwork on her desk and promptly ignored Jane to immerse herself in it. However, he didn't give up. Instead, he positioned himself comfortably on the white couch and settled down for what would presumably be a pleasantly long stay. As she wouldn't discuss any other matter, even an update about the current case would suffice. When he closed his eyes, he felt completely and utterly relaxed. It had been a stressful night, plagued with thoughts of both Angela and Lisbon intermingled between one another. Now, in the confines of Lisbon's all too familiar office, he felt at ease.

"Boss?"

"Yes?"

With interest, Jane watched from his position on her couch. Rigsby looked a little nervous as he clung onto a file in his hands. It didn't take Jane long to work out precisely why he was behaving in such an odd manner. He and Van Pelt had been assigned with the task of tracking down – and bringing in – Gregory Mitchells' ex and presumably, it hadn't gone well. Otherwise, Rigsby would have been whisking them both to the interrogation rooms to question the woman. Jane understood just how the team operated; failing at an assigned task always weighted people down. All three of Lisbon's team were keen to please her and for good reason: they liked and respected her. Slowly, Rigsby closed the distance between himself and Lisbon's desk and she had already changed her expression to one of utter professionalism. Jane smirked; he knew she had been keeping half an eye on him during the course of the morning.

When Rigsby confirmed exactly what he suspected seconds later, Jane felt vindicated. Apparently, the woman had quickly skipped out of town, or at least disappeared, with some assistance. Slowly, he sat up before standing to join Lisbon and Rigsby. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't mind reading paperwork; sometimes it provided him with useful insight into whatever case they were working on. It was the utterly pointless filling in of the damn things that he loathed. Lisbon glanced up to see what he was doing for half a second, but soon returned her attentions to the papers. She didn't even bother to ask what he was up to; she knew precisely why he was doing it.

"So, where did she get the money to leave so hastily?" Lisbon asked, furrowing her brow. "And how did she know we would want to talk to her?"

They were both fairly basic questions, with obvious answers, but somebody had to vocalize it, if only to kick-start the conversation. The murder had been very high profile, considering, and there had been numerous witnesses. Any one of them could have told – Jane briefly glanced back down at her – Stephenie Winters – about the death. She could even have caught it on the news at one point or another. It wouldn't have taken her long to realize that the cops would sooner or later be paying her a visit.

The real question was why did she feel the need to run? Was she responsible for the murder? An accomplice, perhaps? Or was there some other shady secret that she didn't want to come to light?

The first thing that caught Jane's attention was Winters' complete and utter lack of finances. Instinctively, he realized that she was highly unlikely to have physically been able to leave the state. She simply did not have the resources to be able to do so.

That meant somebody was keeping her out of sights until the heat died down. And from the people he had personally interacted with during this case, he had a shrinking suspicion that he knew exactly who.

There were only two other people who really gained anything from Gregory Mitchells' death and they were the wife and the lover. As the wife was the one who had held onto the money, she had less to lose by his death. However, James Dawson had a hell of a lot to gain. No longer would he be the third man in Andrea Mitchells wedding, and if they ended up marrying, then he could end up getting his sticky fingers on a vast fortune.

Within seconds of telling Lisbon and Rigsby his hypotheses, they went straight into action. Lisbon swiftly instructed Rigsby to organize the others, to do the paper trails, to get a BOLO out on Dawson's vehicle and the like. Jane had heard her give out these instructions before, but as they never held any specific importance to him, he didn't pay particular attention to them. That was what the team was there for; the traditional police work. It was his job to come up with the neat little tricks when standard policing just wasn't working.

Not that this involved much of a trick.

Yet.

It wasn't as if it mattered, yet, anyway. This was another one of those easy cases where everything fell into place neatly. That was provided they actually caught up with these people easily and they did end up having the key to closing the case. As he climbed into the car with Lisbon, he glanced at her and smiled gently. He knew she would like it to be as easy as that. And now, he did too.

If it was, it meant she spent less time in the office, untying the knots he made with the case, calming down irate officials and explaining to judges just why he'd bent the rules so outrageously. Instead, she spent more time with him alone.

And that was enough to encourage him to be on his best behavior more and more these days.

xxx

_19_ _th_ _August 1988_

"Teresa."

She briefly panicked when she heard her name called across the busy grocery store. Teresa knew that she didn't have the time to stop and chat; she had to hurry up and get home. Her brothers were practically unsupervised – her father had crashed out on the couch in a drunken stupor. It was always the way these days; he'd come home from work, drink himself stupid and fall asleep, leaving herself and her brothers to their own devices.

And if he woke up…

Teresa shook her head. She didn't want to imagine what would come next, but her traitorous mind had other ideas. Tommy, with a blackened eye that she had no way of disguising. Lying to the nurses at the hospital about just how Joseph's arm got broken. James, barely able to walk thanks to the repeated lashings of a leather belt. These had all happened before and Teresa knew from experience that her father was also capable of far worse.

Sixteen years old and she was currently living in fear of the one man who was supposed to protect her: her father. He had taken the judge's ruling over her mom's death badly. It been more than enough to top him over the edge into insanity; he barely knew who his kids were these days. The drinking and violence were becoming more and more commonplace, and as a result, were getting increasingly out of hand. There was only so much that Teresa could do to protect her brothers. And the concept of the authorities finding out was a double-edged sword, a dilemma which kept her awake at night. If they did discover what was happening to the Lisbon family, then the boys would be rescued from this insanity. Equally, it would be virtually impossible to find a place to keep four children with a relatively wide age range together. They would inevitably be split up and there was a chance they'd never see each other again.

"Teresa!"

The warm, familiar voice was practically begging her to come to him, but Teresa turned on her feels and walked in the opposite direction. All she could do was hope that Greg would take the hint; she didn't have the time to speak to him today. She had more than enough on her plate as it was. After five minutes of patient waiting, she let go of the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. Then, she quickly hurried to go and pay for the bits and pieces she had already picked up. Tommy would have to go without his orange juice for this week and she decided it would do James some good to _not_ have some chocolate spread for a little while.

When she left the store, she jumped when Greg tapped her on the shoulder. She cursed quietly; she had thought he'd already left, hence her decision to make a move now. Slowly, she turned to face him, glaring. There was a reason why she was avoiding and had done so for the last two weeks. It wasn't just the chores or her responsibilities, it wasn't only just her need to try and keep her family under control, it was…

"What happened to you, Teresa?"

"I fell down the stairs," she snapped, seething. "Greg, I need to…"

"What like you did two months ago, when you sprained your ankle?"

"Yes, yes. I'm clumsy, go figure…"

"You're lying," he persisted.

"Greg…"

She stared at him pleadingly, but she had a feeling she wasn't going to get anywhere with him. Wordlessly, Greg took the heavy bags out of her hands and in silence, they headed towards her home. Teresa hadn't asked him to, but knew she couldn't stop him from behaving in such a way. Inherent niceness was just an important part of Greg's characteristics. And besides, he had become increasingly important to her. Without him, she didn't know how she would have coped during the case or the fallout afterwards. It didn't take them long to reach her house; Teresa had always been infinitely grateful that the stores were close by. However, she knew that this would be the time when Greg pushed the issue forward.

Warily, she watched as he placed the bags down on the doorstep and she smiled weakly. Greg shook his head and frowned deeply. She was desperate to shy away, to avoid the confrontation but she knew he wouldn't give up until he knew the truth. On some occasions, he still reminded her of a certain Daniel Jane, but those times were getting more and more infrequent. However, the look on his face was the exact same one that Daniel had worn when she had promised she could deal with her father on the fateful day that her mother had died. _'Are you sure?'_ was all it said. No, she wasn't, but she wasn't going to let him see that either way.

"Your dad did that to you, didn't he?" Greg eventually said.

"It's nothing."

"It sure don't look like nothing to me."

"He didn't mean to," she protested.

"I'm sure." His tone was one of pure skepticism. "Teresa, if you need-"

"The only thing I need help with is getting these bags inside."

His shoulders sagged as he relented. "Okay. Straight into the kitchen, yeah?"

"Thank you."

As she was transferring the objects into the cupboard, and Greg was sipping at his cup of tea, James rushed through into the kitchen. He seemed barely able to speak; at least, she was unable to discern any of the words coming out of his mouth. Tears were becoming visible in the corner of his eyes and slowly, she placed the tin of tomatoes in the cupboard and turned to face him. Teresa attempted to envelop him in a hug, to talk soothingly to him, but he immediately threw her off and grabbed her wrist.

She had little choice but to follow him to wherever he wanted her to go.

"In… dad's bedroom?" she said, bemused.

He nodded frantically and with some apprehension, she pushed the door slightly ajar. At least she had Greg with her; she was now glad that she hadn't sent him away. Her father always toned down his violence if they had guests around. It made him less prone to lash out.

However, he wasn't going to lash out anymore.

The first thing she saw was his lifeless body strung up from the ceiling. He'd given up and hanged himself.

Underneath was a note with just two words: _I'm sorry_.


	7. Chapter 7

_20_ _th_ _November 2012_

"Teresa," he started.

She ignored him as she focused on the road in front of her. Scowling, Jane reached out and grazed her inner thigh with his index fingers. Lisbon flinched at the touch, but didn't tell him to remove it. That relieved him; right now, he felt like he needed her. Angela had loved Gregory Mitchells during that cruise and his death saddened him. Not just because the man was nice enough, but partially because it reminded him of just how badly he'd treated Angela in his youth. There were times when she had known just how much she had played second fiddle to the woman who was now sitting beside him. He may have grown to love her, but it had been a slow matter of affairs. Not once had there been that intense rush of love that he had felt for Teresa Lisbon.

That didn't mean he didn't miss her dreadfully, or regret her passing any less. It was still his fault; he had lured Red John out and provoked him into killing his wife and child. And it was that underlying sense of guilt that had stalled him from pushing his relationship with Lisbon forward upon their initial reunion. The death of a childhood acquaintance that they had both been familiar with had been required to light the fire that was still present between them. Now, Lisbon's recent reunion with her ex and a death of another one of his acquaintances was making him think further.

Really, he knew that it was his incorrigible curiosity that was driving him mad. He wanted to know just how much Greg had meant to her, and whether she had loved him in the way that he'd eventually loved Angela. What was it that had linked the two of them in the past? If she hadn't have clammed up about him in private, then he wouldn't have been quite so intrigued.

As it was, it was practically distracting him from the case in hand.

"Teresa," he eventually repeated and she briefly glanced at him.

"What? I'm trying to concentrate."

"What happened with Greg?"

"You're still thinking about that? Really?"

The tone in her voice was more one of exasperation than surprise. She probably wanted him to get bored and focus on the next task in hand, whatever that would be. However, sitting in a car and watching Lisbon drive didn't provide him with much stimulation. Besides, he didn't want to risk anything dragging them down, especially given their complex (and potted) history. He just couldn't bear to risk losing another woman he loved.

"Yes," he replied bluntly.

"What about Gregory Mitchells' murderer? Wouldn't that be a more useful way to spend your time?"

"Hmm."

"Jane."

"It's interesting how they both are named Greg, isn't it?"

"Personally, I'd say that was more of a coincidence."

"Well, yes, but coincidences can be interesting, can't they?" he countered.

Lisbon shrugged and fell back into a restive silence. When they arrived at their destination within an hour, Jane was relieved. It felt good to finally get out of the car and stretch his legs. And besides, a break in the case could be just what he needed to get a break in Lisbon's frosty silence. Or, at the very least, it would help him to get back into her good books.

The BOLO that Lisbon had put out had proved unnecessary: James Dawson's car was still parked neatly on his drive. Obviously, the news that he had become a prime suspect in the case hadn't gotten out to him yet. For the first time in a while, Jane saw a slight smile creep onto Lisbon's face as she knocked smartly on the door. As she waited patiently, he went and peeked in the window. Some kind of scuffle was occurring; clearly, they had worked out who was waiting at the front door. Making a mental note to tell Lisbon later, he arrived back at the front door just as Dawson answered.

"What do you want?" he sneered before spotting Jane. "And Mr. Jane too? Have you come to apologize?"

"We just have a few more questions," Lisbon answered back calmly.

"Questions, questions," he sighed in response. "Don't you ever get bored of answering questions? Can't you just – I don't know – actually get on with your job instead?"

"It won't take long."

Rolling his eyes, Dawson stepped to one side and allowed them both inside. Jane took a moment to lock gazes with him, trying to work out his body language. Within a second, he glanced away and Jane smiled at him. Yes, he was definitely hiding something and he didn't feel comfortable about the fact there were cops on his property. As soon as Lisbon settled down to answer some innocuous questions, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. Of course, the look in Lisbon's eye suggested she knew the real reason: that he wanted to go have a snoop around.

Initially, he headed towards the kitchen. A rack of keys had been pinned up by the back door and Jane counted them with interest. On the way to the lounge, he had spotted a locked cellar and that was the place he was most interested in getting into. After all, where else would make sense to hide some deep, dark secret? Jane still wasn't entirely sure if Stephenie Winters was just a red herring, or if both she and Dawson had plotted to kill Gregory Mitchells. His hunch suggested both of them were involved, but he still needed the confirmation.

Snatching up the keys, he headed straight to the cellar door, which was located underneath the staircase. That was a common feature in houses of this specification; he and Angela had lived in one not too dissimilar when they had first moved to California. It didn't take him long to work out which key unlocked it and soon he was downstairs.

"James?" an unfamiliar female voice called out. "Thank goodness; don't you know how hungry I am? Is it safe to-"

She immediately stopped talking when she realized that the person joining her was _not_ James Dawson. Jane grinned; he recognized her almost immediately. This woman had been present at the Mitchells family home when they had first stopped by to question the wife.

"You must be Stephenie Winters," Jane answered and offered the redhead his hand. "Patrick Jane. I work with the CBI."

Jane was about to make himself comfortable and settle down to talk to Stephenie when he heard a creak on the steps that led down to the cellar. He sighed; she had been on the verge of saying something important until she realized he wasn't Dawson. If he had been given a couple more minutes, he was sure he would have been able to get her to confess.

"I suggest you turn around with your hands up and don't you _dare_ call for that woman who came with you."

Slowly, Jane raised his hands above his head and turned around. It wasn't a surprise to see Dawson standing there with a gun in his hands. Clearly, he had worked out that Jane had been gone for long enough to discover the missing Stephenie Winters in his cellar.

And that had been enough to push the man over the edge.

xxx

_1_ _st_ _September 1988_

Greg had agreed to come with her to the funeral.

Though he barely knew her father, Teresa was grateful that he had been more than willing to offer her that kind of support. She was simply at a loss as to how to get through it without him. Though she had known her father was a mess, she had never expected him to give up and commit suicide. As far as she was concerned, that was the weak man's way out.

At least her aunt – her mother's sister – had finally realized just how much the family was struggling. Now that her father was dead, she had stepped up to the plate and finally offered Teresa the support she required.

And it meant the boys wouldn't be separated. That was the main thing, as far as she was concerned.

However, she knew it wasn't going to be easy, even without the threat of her father breathing down their necks. Aunt Mary was a busy woman and bringing up five kids of her own. Now, she and her husband had a total of nine children to contend with and she had already made it clear that Teresa would be mostly responsible for the Lisbon boys.

Though she fought it, the building tears made the corners of her eyes itch.

Greg squeezed her hand and she smiled weakly. The future could wait, she knew that. Now was the time to say goodbye to her father; though he had been virtually impossible to live with for the past two years, he was still her daddy.

xxx

_23_ _rd_ _December 1988_

"Hey, Teresa."

"Greg."

She opened the door to her aunt's house properly, so that he could slip inside. They saw each other less now that she was living with her Aunt Mary. As they no longer lived just two streets away, it meant that it was harder to visit one another regularly. However, she had learned how to snatch time with him at school, doing the household chores, and the like. In some ways, it was hardly different to the times when she avoided seeing him because of something her father had done. Though the pressure of him no longer loomed over her, the weight had shifted slightly on her shoulders.

Teresa knew that Greg was concerned about her and her welfare, but that didn't mean she felt like she could talk to him about it. After all, she wasn't the only one to have lost a parent in that fateful accident.

He followed her into the kitchen and she busied herself making a cup of tea for them both. It wasn't often that he had the time to come this far out just to see her, but even so, this was a part of their routine. She ignored him as he settled himself at the table and it was only when she pushed a filled mug towards him, that he pushed a small package towards her in return.

"It's a little early, but…"

Staring at the small package, an all too familiar feeling of guilt washed over her. She hadn't had the time, never mind the money to buy him something. All of her savings went straight to her college fund; since her mother's death she had been toying with the idea of becoming a cop. Righting injustices seemed like an honorable thing to do after all the wrong she'd done of late. And besides, it was a career that her father (before his downfall, at least) would have approved of. It was almost a family tradition to go into the emergency services, after all.

"You shouldn't have."

"Don't be ridiculous, Teresa. Open it," he instructed.

When she did, the cross that her mother had worn religious stared straight back at her. Teresa was almost lost for words; she'd never thought she'd see this piece of jewelry again. About a year after her mother's death, she'd been forced to pawn it, simply to put food on the table. And now, because of Greg, it had somehow made it back into her hands.

"Greg, I-"

"I'll help you put it on."

She shuddered as his gentle fingers brushed her long hair away. After what felt like an infinite amount of time, he finished fiddling with the clasp and she turned to face him. Her eyes were itching, but she ignored it. Teresa had already cried far too many times in front of him.

"There, it's back where it belongs."

"I don't know how I can repay you," she said in a hushed breath.

"Don't be silly. I don't need repaying."

"Greg…"

"Fine, a kiss would be payment enough."

At that moment, she balked. That wasn't the request she had ever imagined him putting forwards. Greg grinned cheekily before he pointed to the ceiling. Then, she remembered helping her aunt and the younger kids decorate the house with Christmas finery.

"If it makes you feel any better, there's mistletoe up there."

Teresa didn't need to be asked again.

xxx

_14_ _th_ _February 1989_

Without her even really noticing, Teresa somehow fell into her relationship with Greg. He was good, easy-going and could cope with her neuroses. Somehow, with him, she felt that little bit stronger than she did without. When she suggested her trying to become a cop, he had supported her wholeheartedly; had even helped her with the applications. Now, she was due to start her training at the University of Illinois at the beginning of the next school year.

In the meantime, she was just working hard in order to make sure she could fund her dream. That was something her brothers didn't understand and though she hadn't moved to Urbana-Champaign yet, they were already resenting the concept of her leaving them. Being two and a half hours away by car seemed like an insurmountable distance to them. Privately, she couldn't blame them for that; they had already lost both parents and now, they had to prepare to lose the eldest sibling as well.

But she had to do it; she needed to live life for herself after sacrificing so much for so long.

Greg had insisted that he spend St. Valentine's Day with him, though. He had begged and cajoled her until she'd said yes and when she had relented, he had been the one to busily make plans.

If she was honest, his enthusiasm unnerved her. Sometimes, when she was left alone, she wondered what had happened to the carnival boy, Daniel Jane. She knew he was unhappy with his lifestyle and she hoped he'd been able to escape out of it. Teresa had said so many goodbyes in such a short period of time and his was a loose thread which she desperately wanted to tidy up.

But she _was_ happy with Greg, she told herself fiercely. If she wasn't, she would have been able to say no to him, but she found herself unable to do so. Besides, she wouldn't have been able to cope without him, would she? He was her confidant, her best friend, her rock. He listened to her when she was angry with her brothers, calmed her down when her aunt angered her…

And now, he was in the middle of a restaurant, on one knee, asking her to be his wife.

She blinked.

When the hell did that happen?


	8. Chapter 8

_20_ _th_ _November 2012_

His hand shook slightly as he poured the kettle of scalding hot water. Jane was struggling to come down from the adrenalin rush he'd had to endure over the past couple of hours. Deep down, he'd always known that he'd be fine. With Lisbon in the building, Dawson was never going to be foolish enough to shoot him dead. However, despite his handling of guns, despite killing a man with his own two hands with one, Jane still felt funny about them. It was a weapon, designed to kill. And the simple fact that Dawson had held a firearm to his face meant that he was at least _thinking_ about doing so, even if common sense had kicked in.

Now, he was safely back the CBI headquarters. Cho and Rigsby were busy grilling Dawson about his actions prior to Lisbon's intervention. They also had enough damning evidence to prove that he was at least involved in Gregory Mitchells' murder, even if the extent wasn't quite known yet. A confession would help seal the deal and he wasn't required for something like that. Cho and Rigsby had gotten their interrogation technique down to a fine art; it wouldn't take them long to break him.

When a soft hand brushed against his shoulder, Jane jumped and spilt half of his scalding hot tea over his hands. He cursed quietly, but Lisbon ignored that. Instead, she gently removed the cup and saucer from his cast iron grip and poured the rest of it away. In silence, she prepared him a fresh cup and instructed that he sat down in his office. He obeyed meekly; Lisbon had automatically switched into mother hen mode and there was very little point in him fighting against that.

"Patrick," she whispered as she handed him the drink.

The use of his forename was unusual, especially given their current location. Jane smiled weakly; if nothing else, it did provide him with a little comfort. She was there for him, just as she always was. And once the shock had died down, he would be fine, they both knew it.

"You okay?" Lisbon continued and sat down beside him.

"Yeah."

She scrutinized his features, but didn't call him up on it. It was rather obvious that he had been lying, so there was no need.

"I'm about to go question Stephenie Winters. You wanna come?"

He nodded, deciding that the distraction would do him good. Yet again, something else to focus on instead of the myriad of thoughts swirling around his brain would help. In silence, he followed Lisbon down to the interrogation room. She quickly explained that Wainwright and Van Pelt would be listening in from the other side of the one-way mirror. That she wasn't expecting him to be on top form or to nail this criminal. Instead, any insight he may or may not have would just prove beneficial. She was confident that between them, they could get her to break.

Stephenie Winters was busy dabbing her eyes with a tissue when they walked into the room. Jane couldn't decide whether it was grief at the fact somebody had died, or disappointment at the fact she'd been caught. Instinct told him that it was more than likely to be the latter. In silence, Lisbon took a seat and Jane remained in the shadows, by the one-way mirror. With interest, he watched as she opened up the manila file she had been carrying and slid it across to the suspect.

"It's good to meet you, Stephenie."

"I wish I could say the same thing. Can we just get on with it please?" she begged.

Lisbon nodded; a wise decision, given the fact that the crocodile tears were already wearing thin. If she was trying to act weak and innocent, Winters wasn't doing a particularly good job. Instead, she appeared to be all the more self-centered.

"So, what's all this then?" Winters asked, unable (or unwilling) to comprehend the file placed in front of her.

"A copy of your bank records, cell phone calls and the like. You've been a very busy lady."

"A girl has got to eat," Winters answered with a shrug.

"We can prove that you've been in regular contact with James Dawson for six months. Two nights ago, you received a substantial payment from him. Why?"

Winters glanced away and pointedly avoided looking at Jane.

"I needed the money to pay my rent."

"Liar."

It was the first word Jane had felt the need to say. As far as he was concerned, Stephenie Winters was clutching at straws, trying desperately to ensure her story held. She and Dawson had probably spent the past forty-eight hours planning exactly what to say. Slowly, Jane pulled a chair up and sat beside Winters. He grabbed hold of her wrist in order to measure her pulse, but eventually, she pulled it away, irritable. It wasn't that she had cottoned onto the fact he wanted to use her pulse as a lie detector, but that she felt uncomfortable being touched by an unfamiliar man.

"Let off," she growled angrily.

"Mr. Jane is just doing his job," Lisbon replied quietly.

"What, by being a touchy-feely creep?"

"Why were you locked in Mr. Dawson's cellar?"

She shrugged.

"A confession would help you."

"I didn't do it."

"Then provide us with a logical reason as to why-"

"Why did James Dawson want Gregory Mitchells dead?" Jane interrupted.

"Gregory wasn't meant to die; _she_ was."

In surprise, Winters clapped a hand over her mouth, surprised that she had let on so easily. When she realized her error, she told them the whole story, in the hope of striking a deal. How Dawson had approached her, after finding out she was Mitchells' ex-wife. The one who he had left for Andrea. How he wanted Mitchells dead. Where and how they came up with the plan to poison Mitchells. How she was intending to double-cross Dawson and instead, kill Andrea Mitchells in revenge for stealing her husband. She surmised that Dawson had worked out the plan and switched the drinks around before she had a chance to deliver them to their table.

"But he didn't recognize me," she seethed eventually. "I'd been working my fingers to the bone in that club, in the hope that I could see him again, but he'd forgotten that I'd existed."

"And that makes his death okay?" Lisbon said.

"No," Stephenie answered, her shoulders sagging in response.

Later, after Lisbon had finished with the paperwork, Jane took her home. He immediately instructed her to relax with a good book in front of the television, while he prepared dinner. She deserved it and besides, he found cooking meals from scratch relaxing. Within the hour, they had a plate of pasta and his famous red sauce in front of them.

"Are you okay?" Lisbon asked again, persistent, before eating. "I mean it."

"Just thinking…"

"About?"

"My wife. Gregory Mitchells. You…" he said, trailing off.

"And Greg?"

"Yes."

"Do you really need to know about him?"

"What do you think?" Jane asked.

Lisbon rolled her eyes, exasperated. He could never give a straight answer. However, she knew that he was still intrigued, that he desperately wanted to know either way. Jane watched as she slowly placed her cutlery down and stared at him pointedly.

"It's not that interesting."

"I don't-"

She cut him off. "But fine, I'll tell you…"

xxx

_15_ _th_ _February 1989_

Teresa stared at the ring that now adorned her finger. She hadn't meant to say yes; in reality, she needed time to think about what she wanted. From Greg, from the future, from life. Somehow, the romance of the situation had rushed her answer and now, she was engaged.

And yet, she was so young.

Greg met her during her lunch break and when he went to kiss her, she turned her face slightly. If he was hurt by the fact she had made him kiss her cheek instead, he masked it.

But she couldn't help it.

Less than twenty-four hours had passed and already, she doubted her engagement.

xxx

_30_ _th_ _June 1989_

She was angry. It was the bubbling, simmering anger in the pit of her stomach.

And his doubt in her, in her ability to become a cop, had just tipped her over the edge.

Teresa wasn't a stranger when it came to arguments, but this was by far and away the worst that she had had with Greg. All of the words kept coming out wrong; it was almost as if she had no control over her tongue. And now, she was comparing him to Daniel Jane again, the boy with whom she never argued, never upset her and never doubted her for a second.

Logic didn't come into it; she had never spent long enough with Daniel to fight.

However, that didn't matter in the heat of a fight.

This wasn't what she wanted. Since their engagement, she and Greg had fought like cat and dog. About where they should live, how much they saw each other, even what they did during their time together. It was wearing her thin. Since she had said she would marry him, Greg had almost become convinced that he should have a say in every aspect of her life.

As far as she was concerned, she was still her own person and half of her decisions had absolutely nothing to do with him.

And besides, whatever had happened to the sweet, caring boy who had supported her through everything? Why had he suddenly changed into something completely different overnight?

"I think we should take a break," she muttered.

The words slipped out accidentally, but Greg, surprisingly, nodded.

When he left, it was a blessed relief.

xxx

_7_ _th_ _August 1989_

Teresa still hadn't returned the ring to Greg and yet, they still weren't back together again. They were beginning to talk again, albeit more cordially then they had ever done so of late. She hadn't completely lost him, and yet, she wasn't sure if she wanted him either.

Just because they had that inexplicable link, it didn't mean they were meant to be.

Did it?

As she twisted the ring in her hand, she thought about what the future could lead to. She felt as though she was standing at a crossroads and there were two plausible paths to take.

One with Greg. One that led to marriage (at such a painfully young age), kids, settling down, becoming a housewife, household bills, the school run, errands, mundanity.

Or… the unknown. The one where she definitely became a cop, but then what?

She placed the ring back on her bedside table and turned out the lights.

That was something to ponder later.

xxx

_18_ _th_ _August 1989_

She'd already had the tearful farewells with her brothers. Already packed up her car – a birthday present from her uncle and aunt – and was about to drive off to the University of Illinois.

However, she had one last stop to make before leaving.

The envelope felt heavy in her jacket pocket, but she ignored it until she had parked up in front of Greg's house. Then, as she got out of her vehicle, she slowly slipped it out and stared at it. Once she reached the front door, she toyed with knocking but eventually fled back down the garden path and to the letterbox.

It was the coward's way out – but really, she was her father's daughter – so, she posted it instead.

Teresa didn't want to be there when Greg saw that she had returned his engagement ring with an all too familiar note. One with just two words: _I'm sorry_.

xxx

_27_ _th_ _August 2008_

It had taken Lisbon many years, but she had slowly worked her ways up the ranks. After graduating with flying colors, she had quickly made the move to California. She had been desperate to run away and escape the ghosts of her past.

Starting again in a new state had seemed like as good a place as any to begin again.

Under the tutelage of Samuel Bosco, she had bloomed and grown in a masculine-dominated career. He didn't care that she was a woman; he just saw a good cop and Lisbon appreciated that. She wouldn't have been able to work with – and admire – the man, otherwise.

Eventually, she caught the eye of the directors of the CBI and soon transferred over to their Sacramento branch.

Like with Bosco, Virgil Minelli saw her potential and she was fast-tracked up their ranks. It was a matter of just a couple of years before she was heading up her own unit. Serious crimes, no less.

Lisbon was proud of herself and justifiably so. She had worked hard and with every criminal she took down, she felt like she was doing good. Giving something back to society. It also helped convince her that she had made the right decision to leave Greg and find her own wings. She was happy in her career and felt comfortable in California. This was what she was meant to do.

When Minelli had told her she was due to receive a consultant, she had initially fought against the decision. The cops who she supervised were good people and between them, they had a reasonably good closed case record. Of course it could have been better, but the same could have been applied to any team within the CBI.

The only reason she relented was when she found out the new consultant came as part and parcel with the Red John case. She had been desperate to prove her worth and knew that was the case where she would be able to do it. After all, so many cops had tried and failed, and if she could break it, then she would prove to her doubters (the men, mostly) that she was just as good as – and if not, better - than they were.

When Patrick Jane walked into Virgil Minelli's office and shook her hand firmly, Lisbon cocked her head quizzically.

The name was familiar and it took her a good five minutes to place it.

This was the brother of her old childhood crush, Daniel Jane.

And yet, if she didn't know otherwise, she might have just sworn that they were the very same man.

end


End file.
